


Relics Made Anew

by blackice



Category: Godzilla (2014), Godzilla: King of The Monsters (2019)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Wherein Mothra turns her brethren human-shaped so some extremely necessary communication can occur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 19:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20263309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackice/pseuds/blackice
Summary: Mothra is rightfully considered agoddess. Of life, birth,rebirth.





	Relics Made Anew

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It’s like this—a twist in biology and a certain catastrophic evolutionary event combine to form a motivation for Mothra to…  _ adjust _ their Titan forms. Once, their size had been the indicator of strength. Now, she grimly recognizes, it is an impediment to their relations with the humans. Can she blame them, for assuming that bigger meant dumber? For assuming these  _ animals _ couldn’t possibly comprehend one of their complex languages?

Mothra is rightfully considered a  _ goddess _ . Of life, birth,  **rebirth** . One clear night, she ascends and thinks, ‘We could all do with a bit of recreation.’

//

The skies are aglow.

//

“It’s Mothra,” insists Chen. She slaps her hand against the table; the hologram, her collage of ancient folklore, flickers at the blow. “We’ve seen her act before.”

“Yeah, we recognize her radiation colors,” Stanton says.

She shoots him a poisonous glare. He’s not contributing anything worth hearing. Stanton only smirks back. Russell himself raps the table with his knuckles—Chen refuses to feel sufficiently chided, but redirects her attention to Monarch’s acting leader.

“We need to secure as many Titans as possible. They are responding to her—sympathetic radiation.”

“Any theories as to why?”

Chen shrugs. Her sister has been entertaining dozens upon dozens of ideas for Mothra’s worldwide radiation signal, which has curiously  _ only _ been pinged back by the Titans. One posits that Mothra is commanding them back to hibernation. Another pictures that Mothra is actually affecting the Titans, and is weaving her magic to make them bigger. She does not respond with her own theories, which are less fantastical and more dystopic.

“Mothra has many powers, but she is a benevolent force. I believe she is not intending harm against humanity.”

“Great,” says Russell. “Let’s lock down a location for the big guy anyway.”

//

He can  _ feel _ what she’s doing. He hates it. He tries valiantly to shake off her radiation, but his body is too attuned to the energy. He can’t even escape to his sanctuary and hide from whatever magic she’s casting.

She’s singing.

{Time to change! Time to change!}

Mothra’s radiation smothers him, affectionate and knowing. Godzilla, caught in the waters offshore of Ōkuma (he can leech off the radiation, he can overpower her intentions  _ if only he could reach the damn site _ ), roars.

//

It is a little more exhausting than she expected. Mothra nudges the Titans’ genetic heritage not just a degree over, but a full one-eighty. She leaves one of her eggs behind, of course, as insurance in case this all goes horribly wrong, but otherwise—Mothra hurtles down, a naked human, and crashes into the cold waters of a Sichuan waterfall.

She fights her way to the surface, and then to a shoreline. She is a goddess, she cannot drown. But it is very cold, and it is very dark.

Human voices, concerned and amazed. How familiar the adulation.

“Mosura,” whispers a fairy. No, they’re humans now, aren’t they?

“Peace,” she says, testing the word out on her tongue. She speaks in a universal language—it must sound so strange to their ears, if they are screwing their eyes shut and twitching their shoulders up. Mothra takes an account of her being. She is not pale, like the one she knows is a follower. Her hands are softer, rounder than she expected. Ah, these are breasts.

“Uh, can you—can you tell her to stop that?” asks a young man.

“Who am I to deny her a complete exploration of her body?” her follower responds. “Someone get her a blanket.”

//

A broad-shouldered, muscular young man is hauled onto a fishing boat. His skin is the color of rich earth, but his hair is short and spiked, gleaming blue even in the moonlight. And his eyes burn an orange-gold. The first thing he spits out, a multi-toned voice that resonates into the fishermen’s bones, is: “That  _ witch _ .”

//

Chen looks at the text and attached picture from her sister. Wordlessly, she departs her room to go report to Russell, who is sure to tear his hair out in confusion. How fortunate they are, to have the culprit—the Queen of the Monsters;  _ her _ Queen and Lady—sitting prettily in a Monarch camp at Chengdu.

//

Russell stares at the screens. Mothra, as a human, is surprisingly… well, perhaps unsurprisingly uncanny-looking for a human. Her hair fluffs out in white against her brown skin, and her blue eyes are… the irises. Russell is fairly certain that no iris has even looked compound.

“I understand you’re the cause?” he starts off belligerently.

“ _ Of the Titans becoming human-shaped, yes _ ,” she confirms serenely.

“Human-shaped? Not just human?”

“ _ No. We are still beings of radiation, Mr. Russell. Even I cannot shift such essence away.” _

This isn’t nearly as comforting as she probably thinks it is. “What happens if—” he tries to find a way to frame this delicately. “What happens if your body is… irreparably harmed by something  _ not  _ a nuclear bomb?”

Mothra readjusts her legs. One knee over the other. Someone’s given her a hospital gown to wear, and she somehow looks regal. “ _ I don’t think you understand. We are human-shaped. Perhaps it will enable easier comprehension if I explain my method as… condensing.” _

Stanton startles in his seat. His hands go to his armrests, white-knuckling and trembling. “Oh-h-h, fuck. Fuckity fuck. You  _ didn’t.” _

“Didn’t what?” echoes Russell.

“She—she crammed a Titan, all the Titans, into a human shape. Which means they’re—super-powered humans. Invulnerable. Imagine all of Godzilla’s armor being shoved and compacted.  _ That’s  _ what would be reinforcing his body. All that armor, all that muscle. It translates into nigh-invulnerability.”

Mothra claps lightly. “ _ Correct. We wear the look of humanity, but yet function as the Titans we are. There are, of course, certain characteristics that make us identifiable. I am sure you’ll make note of them with due diligence. _ ”

He’s getting more bewildered by the second. “But—why? What’s the point?”

“ _ Recent events have reminded me of the power of precision over blunt force. _ ” Mothra examines her nails. “ _ Do not think we cannot revert, Mr. Russell. It is just that I believe in… ah, how do you say it. Living in someone else’s shoes? And it will be nice, I think, for the Titans to have a true reunion and not decimate the landscape for it. _ ”

.

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**Author's Note:**

> unearthed this from my scraps doc, and it's not really going anywhere for now (unless i get to rewatching), so here's the seedling of an idea!


End file.
